


Stroke of Luck

by Metal_Chocobo



Category: Ocean's 8 (2018)
Genre: F/F, Pool & Billiards, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-18
Updated: 2018-12-18
Packaged: 2019-09-20 11:58:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17022198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Metal_Chocobo/pseuds/Metal_Chocobo
Summary: Constance knows exactly why she's terrible at pool.





	Stroke of Luck

**Author's Note:**

  * For [psocoptera](https://archiveofourown.org/users/psocoptera/gifts).



When Constance showed up for her weekly pool game with Nine Ball she knew she was in trouble. It wasn’t because she was late; that was pretty typical. Nine Ball always found something on the internet to occupy her attention until Constance rolled in and then they’d fool around on a pool table for a few hours until some of the others showed up for lunch. No, it was because Nine Ball wasn’t alone, and while Daphne wasn’t a big deal, seeing Amita stopped her in her tracks.

“Hey, look who’s finally here!” Daphne greeted her.

“Sup,” Constance said. She nodded at Daphne, but her eyes didn’t leave Amita.

Honestly, it was great seeing Amita, but things had been super weird between them lately. That was partly her fault—actually, that was almost entirely Constance’s fault—but while the crush that had turned her into a total klutz, things had been especially tense for the last month. Amita refused to get in an elevator with her anymore. In Constance’s defense, they had been trapped in that brand new car for over an hour and no one responded to their calls for help before she tried to escape.

Amita shot her a wary smile and Constance couldn’t help returning it with a full wattage grin. It was a little absurd how excited any attention from Amita made her, but at least she hadn’t caught on to the crush. Or if she had—and Constance would die a little inside if she had—she hadn’t acknowledged it. Amita didn’t play with people’s feelings.

“Ready to play?” Nine Ball asked. She offered Constance a pool cue.

“You know it,” Constance said, grabbing the cue. She noticed that Daphne and Amita held sticks as well.

“We were thinking of playing doubles,” Daphne explained.

”Is that okay?” Amita asked.

“Of course,” Constance agreed. “Totally.”

“What are the teams?” Nine Ball asked. “I’m fine with whatever.”

“I was thinking you and Constance while I’ll team up with Amita,” Daphne said.

“You’re kidding, right?” Amita said, letting out a startled laugh. “I’ve played pool maybe twice in my life. Those two play on a weekly basis. I’d be a terrible partner!”

“No, I have a good feeling about this match up,” Daphne insisted. She wrapped an arm around Amita’s shoulders. “I think we’re going to get lucky.”

They were remarkably lucky. That was entirely due to Constance’s hypersensitivity toward anything Amita related. Any time Amita moved, even a slight twitch, caused Constance to zero in on her. Usually that was to the detriment of whatever she had previously been doing. Constance hadn’t made a single intended shot throughout the entire game today, though she still managed to rack up a few points, thanks to the split focus. This was fairly humiliating for her because Constance wasn’t half bad at the game; she had mad dexterity and, while geometry totally wasn’t her thing, she could always read the angles on any given situation.

Honestly, the biggest surprise of the game wasn’t that Constance’s skills tanked in Amita’s presence or that Amita was genuinely bad at pool, but that Nine Ball hadn’t killed her yet for costing them the game. It wasn’t technically over yet; if Nine Ball was on her own she would still win and they could probably take it together if Constance wasn’t so Amita-affected (though they wouldn’t be in this situation in the first place if that were the case). However, that wasn’t the case and Amita’s movements were starting to indirectly affect Nine Ball’s game as well.

When Amita stretched as Nine Ball was setting up her shot Constance glimpsed enough bare skin and a hint of undergarments to send her flailing to the ground. On her way down she accidentally hit Nine Ball’s elbow mid stroke, wrecking the shot, and that caused the woman to let out a blue streak of profanity. It didn’t stop until Nine Ball had pulled out a blunt, lit up, and taken several calming puffs.

“Gee, this is worse than I was expecting,” Daphne said. “You sure the two of you have been playing pool every week?”

“I am an excellent pool player,” Nine Ball said. There was no room for debate in her tone and it was clear Daphne didn’t have a retort in mind. Hacking and pool were Nine Ball’s shtick. That wasn’t up for debate.

“Thanks for intentionally playing poorly today,” Amita whispered to Constance. “It’s actually making me feel better about how rotten I am at the game and this is a little less embarrassing than Nine Ball giving our team several handicaps.”

“No problem, like, Nine Ball would never make things easier for anyone and pool isn’t fun when there’s no chance of winning,” Constance replied. She rubbed the back of her neck. “But I’m not doing it on purpose, ya know?”

“Seriously?”

“My billiard skills fluctuate wildly from day to day due to a plethora of reasons,” Constance explained, spreading her arms wildly as if to encompass all the factors. “Some days I’m super hot and other days I’m… not.”

“That isn’t remotely true,” Amita said. She jerked back as if the words out of her mouth had startled her and then quickly added, “I mean, if you’re practicing regularly and have built up the skills, you still have them on your off days. It’s just… something else might be inhibiting them. Maybe a mental block?”

Constance shrugged. That was as good an explanation as any and had the added benefit that since Amita came up with it, she’d probably believe it. Way less embarrassing than admitting she couldn’t play with Amita around because she was crushing on her too hard. She needed to come up with a different topic that would move the conversation away from her feelings.

“I’m sorry,” Constance blurted out. That was almost always a good gambit for her, since she was typically screwing up and getting lectured by someone. Then it hit her why she should be apologizing to Amita. Constance actually felt pretty crummy about it. “For freaking you out last month in the elevator.”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Amita said quickly. Her face had paled slightly, though Constance doubted she would have been able to tell if she hadn’t been standing right next to her watching as it did.

“If you really don’t, I’ll drop it in a second, but I think you should know why I did what I did.”

“You nearly got yourself killed!”

“I’ve got severe claustrophobia and after spending an hour trapped in that little metal box, I thought I’d die if I didn’t crawl out of that escape hatch.” At the time Constance had been ready to try and claw her way out or possibly kiss Amita, so she had done the only reasonable thing and found an escape route. The only thing worse than being rejected by Amita would have been getting rejected by her and still stuck trapped in a tiny 6’ by 7’ box with her. “I won’t say another thing about it if you don’t want me to.”

“Maintenance hatch.”

“What?”

“It’s a maintenance hatch, not an escape hatch. Workers use them to fix an elevator car and they’re not designed for the general public to crawl out of where they can fall down the elevator shaft and die or get their heads taken off by the other still functioning, and therefore moving, cars.”

“Okay, it was like three feet away from me. I was in no real danger of getting my head whacked off and it’s not like you were up there to see,” Constance snapped. She paused and took a deep breath, trying to collect her thoughts. Amita was still upset about this and the situation was rapidly spinning out of control. She needed to calm down and keep using ‘I’ statements like Tammy had talked about. “Still, now that we’re not trapped I can see how my actions upset you. At the time I was in full panic mode and I wasn’t coping well.”

“Thank you for the apology. I’m still not riding in an elevator with you,” Amita said. Constance shot her a crooked grin.

“Totally fair. I haven’t ridden in one since either. Can’t chance getting trapped again.”

“But you live on the fourteenth floor of your building!”

“Which is why I only go back to my apartment like once a day and order a ton of delivery.” Constance put her foot on a chair and immediately rolled her pants leg up. “But you can see it’s totally having an effect on my legs, right? I’ve suddenly got, actual defined muscles in my calves.”

“Yeah,” Amita said, staring at her leg. “I can definitely see that.”

“Hey, are we playing or have you conceded, Constance?” Daphne asked.

“I’m in it till we win it,” Constance insisted.

“Then you’d better start playing like it,” Nine Ball said darkly.

She shot Nine Ball a sour look as she sidled up to the table. The positioning of the balls on the table had changed dramatically since her last turn. That meant Constance needed to carefully consider all of her options before taking her shot. There was no other way for them to stage a comeback. So she walked around the table, crouching every now and then to consider her options.

“Since Constance has decided to bore us to death before taking her shot, what’s new with you, Amita?” Daphne asked. Constance tried to ignore the chatter, but she couldn’t after the next question. “You seeing anyone currently?”

“Oh, not really,” Amita replied.

Constance’s ears pricked at this and she decided that yes, she liked the option right in front of her. She lifted her pool stick and set it on the table. As soon as she lined up her shot, she’d bank the cue ball off a bumper and knock the four ball into the left corner pocket. It would be a good solid play and not too ambitious to achieve while her attention was half focused on Amita. She could do this; it’d be just like taking watches off of tourists at Time Square. 

“But what about McBeardy?” Daphne asked. “You two seemed like a great match and didn’t you take him to Paris?”

“You mean Asher?” Amita asked, as if there had been any other guy.

Constance ground her teeth. When she had been teaching Amita how to use Tinder the guy had looked like such a mook she figured one date and Amita would never want to see him again—he totally seemed like the type to blather on about himself without ever asking his date a single question. She hadn’t expected Amita to take him to Paris three weeks later. Honestly, it was pure self-restraint on her part that Constance had only lifted his wallet once since the trip; she totally could have done it without even trying on half a dozen other opportunities.

“Did you take anyone else to Paris?” Daphne smirked and raised an eyebrow.

“No, I didn’t and honestly that was a bad move on my part,” Amita admitted.

“Oh?” Daphne said. Constance glanced up before looking back down on her shot. She wanted to know too.

“It killed the relationship before it really had time to flourish. I mean, what was I thinking flying the two of us to Paris after dating for less than a month? Not only did it seriously intimidate him because he couldn’t do anything of the sort, but I instantly went from being this cute sweet girl to a money bank the moment we touched down in France.” Amita shook her head glumly. “Suddenly it was all about where he wanted to go and what he wanted to do with no thought to me other than when I’d get out my wallet to pay.”

“Ouch, I should have warned you about that. I’ve had a lot of guys try and take advantage of me for my wealth and fame, but I didn’t think you’d be hit with it so quickly.”

“The worst part is that I was second guessing myself even as I made the travel arrangements,” Amita sighed. “I’m not typically one to make sudden extravagant gestures, even if I want to be swept off my feet in a whirlwind romance.”

“What do you want in a relationship?” Daphne asked. Constance decided she was going to immediately get this shot over with so that she could focus on the conversation. Amita’s ideal, which she probably didn’t live up to in the slightest, was too good to pass up on hearing.

“I want someone who respects me as a person, which seems like it ought to be the basic bare minimum, right?” Amita laughed bitterly. “But in my ideal, they’re also genuinely interested in me specifically. Willing to cater to my interests at least some of the time and make thoughtful gestures just because they think I’d like it.”

“What would be the most thoughtful gesture someone could do for you?” Daphne asked. “Don’t worry about money or general feasibility, just what would be a romantic gesture that meant they really got who you are?”

There was a pause as everyone in the room waited for Amita to speak. It was so rare that anyone ever asked for Amita’s opinion on anything personal that Constance thought everyone genuinely wanted to hear her answer. She certainly did. Maybe she could even pull off whatever Amita wanted to let her know that she liked her. Like, it’d be hard to turn her down if she did exactly what Amita had always wanted.

“I want someone to show me the crown jewels of Europe,” Amita said. There was a firm quality in her tone that suggested this was something she really wanted, probably for a long time, but had never had the courage to previously voice.

Constance’s head jerked up and she made a far harder shot than intended. Her stick collided with the cue ball with enough momentum that it not only hit the intended target, but ricocheted up and over the table’s cushions to land on the floor and roll under the jukebox. The four ball wildly bounced off several walls before sinking in a corner pocket, though not the one Constance had initially intended. As for her stick, hitting the cue ball didn’t seem to diffuse its kinetic energy in the slight and it continued its path, forward and down, until it hit the table’s surface and tore a large gash in the billiard greens. At the sound of tearing felt Nine Ball made a pained whimpering noise.

“I will steal you the crown jewels of Europe!” Constance announced. There was a long moment as Amita and Daphne stared at her. Nine Ball petted the surface of her damaged table.

“I said show, not steal,” Amita said. “As in, you know, looking.”

“To be fair, when I say I want to see something, that definitely means holding it,” Daphne said. “Looking is touching for a lot of things. As a jeweler you should know that.”

“That’s definitely Constance’s working definition,” Nine Ball agreed. “My screens can attest to that.”

“I mean it,” Constance said, nodding more to herself as the conviction of her words took root. Her gut had announced that this was her hill and she’d die on it if she had to. Listening to her gut had never failed her. It wasn’t about to start now. “I don’t know how I’ll do it, but if you want those jewels I will get them for you.”

“Why?” Amita asked, looking utterly baffled. “Why would you offer to break laws in over a dozen countries at the drop of a hat just because I said I wanted something?”

“I—” Constance felt her tongue balloon three times its normal size in her mouth before the natural following declaration could roll off it.

Why couldn’t she get the words out? She had told lots of girls over the years that she had liked them, and even a few that she had loved them, but it had never been as hard as this one was now. She really liked Amita and if she rejected her it would hurt worse than any of the others had. Amita could see who she really was. If she found her lacking, Constance didn’t know what she’d do.

“Constance?”

“Because gift giving is my love language?” Constance finally mumbled as she stared down at her shoes. The laces on her right sneaker were shredded and would need to be replaced soon. Or maybe she ought to just buy a new pair; she was rich. “I kinda sorta like you.”

“What?”

“I like you, okay?” Constance snapped then cringed. The last thing she wanted to do was snap at Amita, but she felt backed into a corner and she didn’t have a lot of options. However, Amita didn’t seem upset by the bite in her tone.

“I didn’t know that.”

“Well, I didn’t tell you. I didn’t tell anyone.” 

“It sounds like this wasn’t something you wanted to reveal. So why are you telling me now?”

Constance glanced up. Amita hadn’t sounded mad and in fact she looked genuinely curious, though that didn’t mean she was interested in Constance. “You know you’re amazing, right? Like, I know you’d make me super happy, but I didn’t know if I could do the same for you and that would suck. Because I want you to be happy. So when you said there’s a specific way to make you happy, and I might be the only one who can do it, of course I had to say something!”

“Constance—” Amita began.

“—And I’ll do it too!” Constance barreled on, unable to stop her confession now that it had finally started. “I know that you guys all think I’m unreliable outside of tightly controlled situations, but I’m a woman of my word, Amita. I keep my promises!”

“I know,” Amita said, grabbing onto both of Constance’s arms. “I know you, Constance, and you’re just about the only person in my life who keeps offering me things without any strings attached.”

“I am?”

“You’re the person who keeps leaving chocolate bars in my shoe when I stay over at Lou’s. Yes, Constance, I know that’s you because no one else would think to do that. You text me about your day, send photos and videos of anything you think I might find funny, you remember what I tell you about myself, and you follow up on it,” Amita said. She was staring intently at her and Constance had the vague sensation that she was trying to make her words bore their way through her skull.

“Those are basic friend things to do?” Constance ventured. That was true; she had similar conversations with Nine Ball and Lou almost every day. Plus she never forgot to bring Rose a Butterfinger bar, even if she always moaned about how it would go straight to her hips. Still, she meant more by it when she did them for Amita.

“I know that, but they’ve always meant more coming from you,” Amita said. “Not even my mother seemed to get how rattled I was about that doctor’s test I had last month, but you insisted on coming with me, waited through the appointment without fleecing any of the other patients or staff, and then took me out to din sum to celebrate the false alarm. It was a perfect day until we got trapped in that elevator and you almost died.”

“I did not almost die,” Constance automatically retorted. 

“Yeah, well my heart nearly beat out my chest while you were pulling that death defying stunt and I couldn’t calm down until the next day. I was genuinely upset and it took me a while to process all my feelings,” Amita said. She took a deep breath. “I like you, Constance, more than I’ve liked anyone else in a long time and this has been weird for me because I’ve never felt like this about a woman before. I know I’ve been a bit distant lately, but that’s because it’s been a strange experience wrapping my head around the fact I’m apparently bisexual. I hadn’t previously considered it.”

Constance was flabbergasted. She never considered Amita returning her feelings, since previous experience had taught her that any lady with her life even halfway put together didn’t want to get involved with her. “You really mean that?”

“I wouldn’t have said it if I didn’t,” Amita laughed. That was true. Amita wouldn’t lie to her, especially not about something like this.

Constance bit her lip. She really wanted to kiss her right now, and this seemed like a great kissing moment, but she hesitated. Most of her experience came from sloppy drunken makeouts in the back of a party. That didn’t apply here and she wanted her first kiss with Amita to be nice. Besides, messing up their first kiss in front of a live audience wasn’t how she wanted to start this relationship.

“Would you two just kiss already?” Daphne asked. Nine Ball nodded in agreement.

“We’re getting cavities here in the peanut gallery,” Nine Ball added.

Constance opened her mouth to tell them to fuck off, but it was suddenly otherwise occupied before she could get out the words. It took her brain almost two seconds to fully process that Amita was kissing her and by the time Constance could respond she was already pulling back. However, Constance’s lips chased hers and Amita seemed perfectly willing to make out for the better part of a minute before they had to break apart for air.

“So, like you’re into me too?” Constance asked once she had caught her breath. “I’m not hallucinating this.”

“Yeah, I mean, my mom is going to die just so that she can roll in her grave when I introduce you to her, but yes, I do like you,” Amita said.

“You’ve thought about introducing me to your mom?” Constance had had the same sort of daydreams, but she never would have thought about Amita sharing them.

“I’ve thought about introducing the whole crew to her, though she has met Debbie, but you’re the one I’ve thought about the most,” Amita said. “And the only one who’s sparked half a dozen arguments in my head with my sister about bisexuality.”

“Cool.”

“Now that you two are dating, or not-dating but interested, can we get back to the pool game?” Nine Ball asked. “It’s your turn, Amita.”

“Actually, I think I’m done for the day,” Amita said. She slipped a hand into Constance’s hand and interlocked their fingers. “Do you want to finish the game?”

“Nope. I’m good,” Constance said, shaking her head. “Those two can finish on their own.”

“Shall we get out of here?”

“And head to the airport so I can steal you the crown jewels of Europe? I’m down.” Constance blinked at the vague look of horror on Amita’s face. “What? I promised.”

“We aren’t remotely ready for a trip out of the country.”

“What? We’re rich. We can buy anything we need.”

“I don’t have my passport.”

“…fair point. Okay, I’d need to stop at my place and pick mine up as well, but then we’ll split. I’m not about to start breaking promises three minutes into this relationship.”

“Constance, you promised to steal me the crown jewels of Europe. You didn’t promise you’d do it right now,” Amita laughed. She squeezed Constance’s hand and honestly that felt really nice. “Come on, let’s start with lunch and see where things go from there. I already learned the hard way not to take a date to Europe until after the first month, so we’ve got a little time before you have to start worrying. Plus, isn’t half the fun of a heist figuring how it’ll work out?”

“I’m more of an instinct thief,” Constance grumbled before her stomach joined the conversation as well. “But lunch sounds great. I know a great Mexican joint six blocks away. We can get some burritos there and you can tell me all about Queen Victoria’s ruby encrusted toenail clipper.”

“That’s not a thing,” Amita laughed. She leaned in and kissed Constance briefly. “But I’ll gladly tell you about some real jewels in the British royal family’s possession. They’ve stolen so much from India it’s not even remotely funny.”

Constance nodded eagerly. It sounded like the perfect way the spend the afternoon. As they left the bar Constance glanced back at her other friends. Daphne looked triumphant about something and had her hand held out to Nine Ball as if she was expecting her to give her money. Nine Ball looked exasperated, but when she caught Constance’s stare she turned to beam at her then gave one firm nod. If Constance didn’t know better, she’d think she had her approval.

“Hey, are you okay?” Amita asked once they were out on the street.

“I’m better than okay. I’ve got you,” Constance grinned. As they wanted hand in hand Constance could feel a bright and happy future unfurling in front of them. And the best part was—well, the best part after getting Amita—Constance already knew how they’re rob the queen of Sweden. It was going to be epic.


End file.
